


First Chances

by Jyun2680



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, and i love him, clark is just trying his best, dick is a spitball of energy and petty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:08:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24528130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jyun2680/pseuds/Jyun2680
Summary: Clark flies over to Gotham City to talk with Bruce Wayne about his recent choices in his vigilante nightlife. He doesn't understand Bruce's rationale when he brought in a kid into the messed up mixture. Then he meets the kid- who was all confidence and grace- and he's not really what Clark was expecting. Oneshot
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	First Chances

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: Clark's first meeting with Dick might be a bit different than the ones you have read. It isn't excited superfan Dick, so, if you want to read that type of fanfic it won't be here. Just a small warning, I suppose, before you read.

Clark Kent knows Bruce Wayne is a complicated man with a bitter, gut-wrenching past. But still, that's no excuse for allowing that. Clark in his red and blue suit flies over to Gotham in rage and disbelief. He has so many words to say to his friend (Gosh, could he even call Bruce that? Clark isn't even sure what the man is even thinking nowadays.)   
He lands in the massive cave with a frustrated huff and his arms crossed studying the expansive darkness.

He hears him before he sees him.   
A small bound of color lands in front of him. Clark extends his arms on instinct and catches the bundle.   
“Hey, Supes!”   
The small load of red, yellow, and black swings in his arms while grinning ear to ear leaves Clark speechless.   
This is the reason why he flew to Gotham from Metropolis. The child, who barely felt like a feather in his hands, who Bruce had dangerously let him fight the insane criminals of Gotham, is the reason why he flew here even though he had to an interview at five in the morning.  
“Robin, get down.”  
The kid grumbles at the command and flips away from his hold and lands with a grace he has never seen before.   
Clark tears his eyes from Robin to meet Bruce’s, who is staring back with that cold, vacant stare Clark always hated. He breathes, long and loud, he did not want to fight with Bruce in front of the child. He glances back down where Robin is still standing and grinning at him. He was practically hopping in place.   
Clark crouches down and softens his voice, “Hi, you must be Robin, right?”   
Robin stills and tilts his head. “Yeah, I am…” Robin isn’t grinning anymore but still wears a cat-like smirk. Clark feels the child's eyes boring into him despite the sleek mask covering his eyes. Superman fidgets under the gaze.   
“What are you doing here, Superman?” Bruce asks, annoyed that a meta trespassed on Gotham territory without notifying him.   
Clark chews on his tongue, silently seething. Did Bruce need an answer to that question? He was going to hit that Bat buffoon so hard that Bruce was still going to be sore for the next year.  
But before he could even do anything he was going to possibly regret, the kid in front of him snorts. The noise disrupts Clark out of his anger.  
“Aw, c’mon, B, don’t be rude to a guest.” The kid is all smiles, sarcasm, and confidence. It’s almost laughable. The kid, fluid in his movements, glides over to Batman. "You didn’t even say hi.”   
“Robin,” Batman sighs, but there’s a small smirk sticking on his face to Clark’s surprise. Robin throws him a look as if to say ‘Can you believe this guy?’.  
“I mean,” Robin lays a dramatic hand on his hand, “I’m an impressionable child. Is that really how you want me to learn how to greet a friend?”   
“He’s not- I mean- Why do I have to- “   
Clark hides a laugh behind a cough at Bruce’s flustered dialogue. It's hard not to follow Robin's flow and ease. Unconsciously, a small part of Clark's tension looseness. It was so easy to get lost in how easy Robin managed to wrap Bruce around his pinky.   
Bruce clears his throat. “Hello, Superman.” The words spread through gritted teeth.   
Clark has to bite the insides of his cheek for the smile not to bloom across his face. God, imagine Diana's face when he tells her a ten-year-old lecturing the old, gothic scary Batman.  
“Hello, Batman.” The greeting comes out in a rumble when hiding his laugh becomes too difficult.   
Batman scowls at the sound. He lays a hand on Robin's shoulder and brings him closer to him. The boy is now partially hidden in the man's thick kevlar cape. Robin peers at his mentor with decent curiosity.   
"Just tell me what you're doing here."   
Clark bristles at the command and his smile drops, remembering the main reason why he came storming in. His eyes drop back to the kid, because God, he's just a kid, hidden under Bruce's cape.  
"I want to have a private conversation with you, Bruce."   
Bruce's expression does not change from his cold scowl but Robin's expression sours.   
"I'm not leaving," the boy hisses out.   
"Robin," Batman whispers in a scolding tone.   
"What?" Robin frowns as he slides out of Batman's hold. "It's obvious Mr. Kent wants to talk about me behind my back."  
Superman startles when his surname comes out Robin's mouth.   
"You told him," he growls out as he floats over to Bruce with his brows furrowed in a tight crease. "My identity?"  
"No," Robin announced with a fierce and unafraid smile. "I figured it out myself."   
"What?" Clark blurts out intelligently.   
The kid shrugs. "It wasn't hard. Every time you leap off to fly, you admit a sonic boom. I tracked in Metropolis where and in what locations sonic booms have been occurring. There were only two places that were the most frequent." Robin holds up one finger. "One, the Daily Planet." He raises another finger, "and two, an apartment complex in downtown Metropolis. After that, it wasn't difficult to connect the pieces. There was only one male who fit Superman's build and height in both locations." The kid pauses for dramatic effect. "And that was one Clark Kent- adopted by Martha and Jonathan Kent from Smallville." Robin is smiling wide at Clark's dumbfounded expression. "Let's call it even-steven, yeah? I'm sure you know who I am behind the mask."   
Clark clears his throat. "Richard Johnathon Grayson, ward of Bruce Wayne. It's been about two years since Wayne took him under his wing."   
"Ding-ding-ding, and we have a winner, folks!" Robin peels off his mask with practiced ease- he doesn't even wince when the spirit glue snatches at his skin- to reveal bright, sparkling blue eyes. "And you can call me Dick."   
Besides Clark, Bruce slides off his cowl. "Dick, stop teasing Clark." The reprimand comes off light and half-serious. Clark nearly gets taken aback how light Bruce's expression is- a mixture of pride and humor. A face for the many years Clark had known Bruce off and on the mask, he had never worn before.   
"Aw, shucks," Dick moans, "and it was so fun too."   
"You were," Clark swallows, "teasing me?"   
Dick rolls his eyes as he puts his mask away. "Oh, please. As soon as you came in here with a pout and angry eyebrows I knew you here to scold Bruce." He lowers his tone comically as he throws his cape in the hamper, "Bruce, what is the matter with you? A child vigilante, as if you dealing with your brooding self wasn't enough!"   
His last comment earns a light smack on the back of his head from Bruce. Dick laughs at the hit as he walks over to the weapon area and begins to put away the items on his utility belt. Dick is movement and grace, even when he's doing something as simple as organizing weapons.   
Clark flies over to the weaponry unit and grabs Dick's wrist. "Dick, this isn't a game. This is-"  
"Hey, you wanna spar?"  
The question throws him off. His words sputter like a dying engine on his tongue. Dick is staring at him again like he sees everything in Clark- his thoughts, his weaknesses- and it only makes Clark feel all too vulnerable.   
"Dick," Bruce begins, his voice with terse and tight, "I don't think that's wise."  
Dick doesn't say anything, only keeps staring at Clark, waiting for his decision.   
"I think we should listen to Bruce, kiddo, and as I was saying-"  
Dick swipes his hand from his hold and is still staring at him with that same look. Clark didn't know what this kid is thinking.   
"No powers," Dick says. He looks towards Bruce. "It will be training, a way for me to spar with someone new. I should practice that, right?"   
Bruce's eyes search Dick as if trying to find an excuse. He closes his eyes and lets out a resigned breath.   
"Fine."  
Clark chokes on his breath.   
Bruce sends him a glare as if he was the problem in this messed-up equation. "No powers," Bruce repeats.   
"You're kidding me, right?" Clark scoffs. His fists tighten and shake. "Bruce, this is beyond ridiculous."  
A gentle hand grasps his fist and he looks down.   
"Why don't we make this interesting?" Dick asks with a laughing smile. "If I win, you get to tell me something embarrassing about Bruce. And if you win, I get to tell you something embarrassing about Bruce."  
Clark sees Bruce stiffen at the proposition beside him from his peripheral.   
Clark licks his lips. "How about this? If I win, you seriously listen to what I have to say."  
"Hm," Dick hums as he bounces between his heels and his toes. "I don't think that's a fair tradeoff. Lets put it at this, if I last at least three minutes with you then I win; any less and you win. Deal?"  
Clark looks at the offered hand and takes it with a sigh. "Deal."  
Dick’s smile widens. "Great! I'll go change into something more comfortable. Be right back!" He bounds over to the waiting room with his high-pitched laugh echoing in the cave.

Clark didn't realize how much Dick's presence filled the cave until there is an echoing silence left in his wake. It felt heavy and foreign even though he should be used to it when it was a fellow member that constantly followed the Bat. Clark swallows the bile as he glares at Bruce who was typing away silently typing away at the computer.   
"This has to be the stupidest decision you ever made, Bruce," he mumbles just in case of any young whispering ears.   
"Hm"   
Clark bristles at the sound. "You are sending a literal child into a war. This is not going to end well."  
"I don't need to explain myself to you, Kent." Bruce is still staring at the computer screen and typing away. Clark's anger goes from boiling to eruptive in a single minute. All he sees is red.   
He takes a dangerous step forward when Dick comes barreling towards him in a pair of grey sweats and a loose shirt.   
"You ready?" Dick glances between him and Bruce as if he senses the shift in tension in the room.   
"Yeah."   
"Awesome!"   
Dick drags Clark over to the sparring area. His little toes squeeze the gummy mat underneath the feet.   
"Alright, here are the rules," Dick starts to explain, "The first person to tag the other wins. If you leave the mat, you lose. Simple, you got it?"   
Clark nods in understanding.   
Dick nods back. "Bruce, can you call start?"   
Clark looks back at Bruce who had swiveled his chair to view the sparring area. His fingers are laced together and his head rests on his hands. Bruce only gives a nod as his answer.   
Dick and Clark move to the opposite ends of the mat and position themselves.   
"Begin."  
Clark sighs ready for the disappointment the kid is going to face. He might as well make this quick. He studies over to Dick. Even without his powers, he's quick. He reaches out his hand to tap Dick's chest, but the kid jumps forward and flips over Clark's head.   
It's his fast thinking that Clark avoids the small hand stretching for his back. Superman turns around and creates space between him and the child. They circle the perimeter of the mat, both never taking their eyes off each other. Alright, Clark needs to play this smarter.   
Clark starts for the left but then quickly veers to the right when he sees Dick start to make a move. This only makes Dick smile wider. Clark stumbles when suddenly his hands are met with air. He has to stifle the frustrated growl that wants to leap out his throat.   
Dick is perched on a water pipe, grinning at superman's apparent frustration.   
"You had to stay within the mat," Clark reminds as he glances up at Dick.   
Dick's sparkle knowingly. "I am still within the mat," he said as he lands on the gym mat on all fours. "We never said anything about a height limit."   
Clark lets out an amused huff at the loophole when he leaps forward again. They do this dance where Clark is mostly on the offense while Dick is on the defense. The kid is quick in both his feet and thinking, that Clark finds him enjoying the sparring match. Robin is good, but Clark is better. He's got more age and experience under his belt. The fight is over in a moment's breath. He manages to brush his fingers at Dick's side when he stumbles on a bad landing.   
Dick is beet red and his short, tired pants echo throughout the cave. Sweat plasters to his skin. Clark feels a pang of guilt when he notices Dick's grim expression with his bottom lip drawn out and his brows creased in the middle. Clark swallows the feelings down because he had a point to get across- and Bruce is damned if the man was going to be stubborn to listen to reason.   
He kneels at Dick's height and softly grasps his shoulders. "Look, I'm sorry, but-"  
Dick shakes off the hold. "Bruce, the time!"   
Bruce's face does not show anything. He unlaces his fingers and slowly announces, "Three minutes and one second."  
Dick radiates at those words. Despite his exhaustion, he leaps into the air with pure joy. A fist pumps in the air. "Yes!" he shouts with the biggest smile. "I won!"   
Clark is left dumbfounded. His lecture dies in a puddle inside his brain. This is not what he was expecting. Clark thought he had won, taken Robin down quickly in their game.   
"I just wanna say something."   
Clark snaps his eyes towards the young boy who was wiping off his sweat with a soft towel.   
"Tell me," Clark says because he was a proud enough man to know his lost battles.   
"I don't think it's some sort of game."  
Clark blanches. This is not what he was expecting the conversation to derail into.   
"You may think that but-"  
"I know," Dick says forcefully with his own small glare that almost rivals Bruce's. "I know," Dick repeats, "that one decision, one gun, one mistake could hurt me." His expression crumbles into a mixture of anger, grief, and a raw sadness that pinches Clark in the stomach.   
"Could kill me even," Dick adds softly. His hands grip the towel, now laying on his neck, so tight that his knuckles turn pale. "But don't get it wrong. Bruce isn't the one who is putting me in danger- he's saving me."  
Clark stumbles on his words to argue. "This life isn't meant for some child. Bruce should know and understand that, Dick. He may not be forcing you but-"  
"You still don't get it." Clark bristles in annoyance when he is interrupted again. Clark makes a move to start again, but Dick beats him to the punch. "I'm going to do this with or without him. Bruce knows and understands that, Mr. Kent. So, he trains me and I listen and practice so I could survive. Without his guidance, I'll probably be ten feet under right now."   
Clark's brain is still scrambling. He is left absolutely speechless.   
"Dick," Bruce says interrupting the silence, "Get to bed. It's getting late."   
Dick looks like he wants to argue but with another glance at Clark, he decides against it.  
"You should come over more often, Mr. Kent. Maybe I can beat you someday, yeah?"  
Clark grasps out words with his mouth feeling dry. "Yeah, maybe."  
Dick smiles, his eyes gleam with mischief.   
"Oh, technically you did win, so here's your prize-winning story. Bruce used to have a stuffed toy bear named Brownie McStuffines. He used to play doctor with it and sleep with it. Apparently, threw the wildest tantrums if he didn't have it near him."  
"Dick," Bruce hisses with slightly red cheeks.   
Clark huffs out a laugh, but his mind is still reeling, trying to stock in all the new information.  
"I have plenty of more stories. Whenever Bruce pisses Alfred off, he tells me a whole bunch of embarrassing stories about Bruce. I will tell you more the next time you come."  
Dick offers a final goodbye and cartwheels over to the elevator. The buy disappears as the whirr of the elevator goes up. 

The cave is silent again- and he feels the weight of it again.   
"Is it true?" Clark asks as he stares at the elevator doors, breaking the sticky silence.   
"What is?"   
Clark looks at Bruce. It's the Bruce who he always knew. A weight of exhaustion on his face but his eyes brimming with determination. But there's something I'm him- something Clark couldn't quite place.  
"What Dick said."   
"I...I don't know," Bruce says as he looks to the elevators where the boy had disappeared. "If I am helping him or not." Bruce's face contorts to look of doubt and weakness- a look Clark that startled to see Bruce wearing so openly. Clark saw a lot of faces Bruce pull he had never seen before.   
"But I do know," Bruce adds softly, his eyes glimmering, "Dick would still be going out there without my watchful eye. I'm trying to protect him the best I can. I really am, Clark."   
Clark nods stiffly with his whole lecture and his heated words dying within him.   
"Just don't let him die, Bruce."  
Bruce's face sets in a grim determination Clark knows too well. "I won't."  
The weight of those two words is all Clark needs. He flies away without saying a proper goodbye to the Bat. 

It's when Clark is kissing Luis goodnight and tucking himself into bed beside her that he recognizes the look on Bruce he didn’t know before. It was hope. Batman, finally, had some hope in his life.  
As Clark tries to drift off to sleep, he thinks to himself that the kid wasn't so bad. (Who was he kidding? He was already planning another trip. He did get on a bad foot, after all. And honestly, he needed to hear more childhood stories about Bruce )

**Author's Note:**

> Arthur's note: That's it! I imagine Dick's and Clark's next meeting would go much better.


End file.
